“Asshole is going to owe me the finest pairs of shoes after this,” Pam muttered disgruntledly as she took in the state of another pair of ruined pumps courtesy of the woods of Bon Temps, a place she was coming to despise much more with each visit. To add to her horror she had spilled some of the tomato sauce on her pink tweed pantsuit when leaving behind a trail of small spaghetti bowls, all containing a single bite, that ended by Eric’s home nearest the forest. As much as Pam had taken to Fairy Sookie, stains were a hard thing to forgive. She consoled herself in that she could pass it off as a blood stain in order to maintain her menacing appearance if the situation called for it.
Her horror of a night only seemed to continue when she entered the large chef’s kitchen where she found her maker cooking. Cooking. It was downright the most sickening thing Pam had ever stood witness to. Eric’s large form huddled over Fairy Sookie as she diligently showed him how to chop, resting her hands atop his to mimic the movement. Pam let out a silent snort at the thought that Eric pretended to never have wielded a knife in his thousand years, although it was probably a first for his precision skills to be unleashed on a clove of garlic. It was however a pleasing sight to see her opportunistic maker of earlier years re-emerge.
“Then you rock the bottom of the blade like this,” Sookie instructed as she initiated the movement.
“Like this?” Eric feigned innocently, speaking huskily into her ear, when he didn’t hesitate to rock against her behind with his entire body suggestively per her directions, earning him a playful slap in the process. At the sickening display of domesticity Pam interrupted the scene that threatened to play out with an audible cough to announce her presence and annoyance.
“Your fairy trap is set your Royal Snatchiness,” Pam snarked with a well-practiced curtsy.
For far too many times than she cared to count since Fairy Sookie’s reappearance, Eric’s eldest progeny’s full name was hurled at her in reprimand. The feigned innocence that had worked so well for Eric mere moments ago did little to save Pam as she was relegated to waiting on the Prince of the Fae holding a steaming bowl of the preferred pasta out on the porch.
Pam tried desperately drown out the giggles and kisses that signified the repulsive concept of happiness happening inside. It came as no surprise that she was extremely grateful to find Niall Brigant staring her down hungrily. Perhaps it was all for the bowl of spaghetti but the salt and pepper of his hair wetted her own appetite accordingly. He just screamed ‘make over’ to Pam and that was a worthy distraction over the sickeningly sweet interactions of her maker and his fairy.
“Hello there pretty lady,” Niall purred out reminding Pam of his idiotic great-grandson who was well versed with the same phrase, which gave her the startling thought that perhaps there was a fairy Jason out there somewhere too. With a brain. The horror.
“Enchanté,” she returned with a piqued eyebrow throwing out her hand with a disinterested manner in a decidedly old fashioned custom demanding he kiss the obscenely pink diamond of her ring.
“I hope this doesn’t mean you are a taken woman,” Niall murmured as he hungrily took in the scents of spaghetti that lingered on her hand as his lips brushed against her cool skin before finding the colder metal surrounding the stone. He knew a good thing when he saw it and such a beauty carrying a bowl of his favourite nourishment was a definite keeper in his mind.
A little snort escaped Pam at the mere thought, reminding her why she had so easily moved on from men to women. Act a little disinterested, a good flutter of the lashes and a shy lingering look and they were all putty in her hands. Men really pulled all the fun out of seduction for Pam, at least women gave a bit of work in the chase before they succumbed to her inevitable charms. She didn’t fail to recognise a worthy adversary when she came across one though and Niall definitely possessed all the skill.
“Maybe, maybe not,” she shrugged non-committedly. “Care for a bite,” Pam grinned letting her fangs slide out in display while she offered up the porcelain bowl holding his gaze.
“You are either very brave or very stupid,” Niall returned with a modicum of admiration.
“I could say the same for you,” she countered slyly.
“Let’s say we be bravely stupid together then,” he smirked back while sitting himself down on the chair she had pulled out in demonstration of silent command. Niall always did enjoy a bit of dominance in a woman. “Did you make this for me?”
“Do I look like I cook?” Pam returned holding the same insulted face she usually reserved for the idiocy of lesser beings like Ginger or Jason.
“You look like a woman who gets others to cook for her without uttering a word,” he complimented before taking a bite with an appreciative moan. “The world just comes running to your beautifully adorned feet.”
“You’re not far off,” she said picking up a fork and mimicked the rotating movement to gather the spaghetti onto the utensil. Her free hand found the bottom of his chin, moving it towards her before he obligingly opened his mouth to take in the offered food. “I could say the same for you.”
He grinned widely as he displayed his leather ankle boots that she instantly recognised, as archived in her vault by brand, price and leather type. The finest Italian craftsmanship money could buy, which for decades Pam had fervently tried Eric to buy while he continued to insist on ‘sensible’ shoes.
“Tell me what I can do for you Pamela.” A look of surprise fell over her face but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared which had him chuckling at the composed woman’s brief slip in her armour. “You are a very well-known woman in your own right,” he started to explain. “However, I know of every being connected to my great granddaughter. Really thought I wouldn’t stand to stare twice when your lovely picture graced my desk.”
“I’d be flattered if I cared,” she returned with a roll of her eyes belying the fact she was somewhat flattered by the admission.
“So what is my idiot great granddaughter up to that has you luring me into your lair?”
“Well speaking of idiots,” Pam mused. “There appear to be two now.”
“The brother too?” Niall expressed with slight distaste at the apparent tarnish on his personal gene pool.
“No two Sookie Stackhouses, we call one Idiot Sookie and the other is Fairy Sookie, they got separated at Bill.”
“Seems the most accurate word for the miserable excuse of a vampire that clearly needed one to take a shit already and release us of his constant misery,” Pamela growled out with disgust for the Civil War veteran.
“He did appear rather constipated,” Niall agreed. “You’re not telling me anything new though. Why do you think I assigned one of my trusted werefaes to guard the idiot version?”
“You knew!” The seething words came accompanied by a hard slap across the face knocking out the latest bite of spaghetti from his mouth while Eric desperately tried to reign in the fiery temper of Sookie as she set to further assault her great grandfather into grave bodily harm.
“Wondering what took you so long,” Niall smiled completely ignoring the anger that waved off her with a scalding heat as he softly kissed the crown of her head as her itching arms of violence were restrained by Eric. “Good evening great granddaughter.”
“What is the meaning of this,” Eric hissed as he simultaneously tried to soothe their collective anger.
“Why don’t you join us,” he returned congenially gesturing to the two empty seats. Their tempers had yet to relinquish but somehow the blonde couple managed to find some sense of composure and diligently sat down to listen to the Prince of the Fae.
“Talk,” Eric gritted out as Sookie clamped down on his hand for support.
“I felt the treachery of Mr Compton through the blood all those years ago and I had set to rectify the situation as soon as the sun was up,” Niall started to explain. “That was until I discovered your condition.”
“What does my telepathy have to do with anything?”
“Your other condition,” Niall answered succinctly.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Pam groaned as the other two blondes continued to stare blankly with the unanswered question. “It’s his?”
Niall gave an affirmative nod accompanied by an appreciative leer for the vampiress’ superior perception.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on,” Sookie demanded hotly as she shared Eric’s confusion to what Pam and Niall seemed to be communicating stealthily about.
“I found you to be pregnant with the Northman’s child.”
Shock overtook them both, paling Sookie to the same shade as Eric’s skin. “How is that possible?”
“How is it not?” Niall shrugged. “There’s evidence of magic everywhere, even in the ordinary.”
“There’s magic in the things we can see,” Sookie recited, remembering the words her great grandfather’s had spoken to Idiot Sookie when she was searching for a miracle to restore Bill. “Birth is a miracle. Love is a miracle. Death is a miracle. You said that for my benefit?”
“Yes the other one makes your brother look intelligent,” Niall scoffed. “She does make a decent spaghetti though and it’s fun to waste her time whenever she gets stupid notions in her head again. Frankly my patience with her is akin to public service.” Another appreciative glance travelled Niall’s way as the scruffy man with the best pair of shoes was becoming more alluring to Pam by the minute.
“I still don’t understand why you kept us apart.”
“I know the answer to that one,” Pam expressed gleefully taking her position as Niall’s star student and with an approving glance he allowed her to continue. “Two words. Trouble. Magnet. Bill, then Billith, Warlow. Momentary peace before Eric goes missing for six months,” she pointed out acerbically, forgiveness still being far off on his sudden departure. “Leaving you sans protector, then HEP-V roaming zombies while we travelled the world in the name of the cure.”
“How do you know this?” Sookie asked with slight wonder.
“Eric and I returned to Louisiana eight and a half months ago. The other you is due to give birth in two weeks meaning Niall over here finally let go of the stasis placed on Idiot Sookie, which explains her lack of developing brain cells, the moment it was safe to do so.”
“The baby is ours?” Sookie whispered out as she finally allowed herself to feel ownership of the child that resided in the other Sookie’s belly that had previously been regarded with some ambiguity.
“Ours,” Eric confirmed without a doubt in his mind. As he knew all too well that there was magic in the ordinary from the moment his eyes first found the woman sitting beside him.
“I still get to slap the hell out of her right?” Sookie questioned as an afterthought.
“We’ll all line up so we each get a turn.”
A/N #15: Remember when I said there would be another Fixin’ to follow up #14, it’ll probably be a couple more connected to that particular fixin’ then I’ll go back to the stand alone fixin’s… Pam and Niall have been orbiting around each other in previous Fixin’s and they just wouldn’t hurry up so the slapping of the Sookies will happen in a future fixin’…